


Eye Of The Storm

by Virune



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 11:41:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14617685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Virune/pseuds/Virune
Summary: Hanzo's dragons are attracted to storms, so he goes out when they pass by, attracting the lightning for them. McCree sees him leave in the middle of the night, and with concern for his friend, follows him out into the storm.Or, Hanzo is like an Electric type Pokémon.Also posted on myTumblr!





	Eye Of The Storm

Hanzo dreams of a looming storm.

Even in his resting state, he knows where he is, recognises the empty field that seems to stretch for eternity in all directions. There's nothing but long, swaying grass that brushes his fingertips as he moves them. Rain pours down around him, and yet he does not feel soaked through, as if he is impervious to the water. Craning his neck, Hanzo's eyes cast upward to behold the massive storm cloud rolling through the sky toward him.

He knows what it means; he's had this dream many times before. Even so, he cannot help but be surprised that it's happening now, when he isn't hiding out somewhere, but instead sharing a base with teammates - most of which he’d consider to be friends. The realisation hits Hanzo and he suddenly feels nervous. How is he supposed to explain this to someone if they see him? He even struggled to explain it to Genji who, despite their shared gift, could not empathise with his situation.

 _"Mine doesn't care for storms or rain,"_ Genji told Hanzo once, when he'd brought it up. The memory feels hazy in the back of his mind. _"I think it really enjoys gales, though. Brother, promise you won't let me wander into a tornado just because my spirit wanted me to."_

As if sensing Hanzo's inner turmoil, his dragons whisper like rumbling thunder into his ears, grounding him, and the worrying thought dissolves with their synchronised voices:

_"It approaches. Wake, and go to it."_

The air around him trembles as if responding to their command.

Hanzo wakes swiftly. He feels surprisingly well-rested despite the early hour, and sits up. The hairs on the back of his neck tingle, and he smooths a palm over them before rising from his bed. A brief glance out the window confirms that his dream definitely had meaning; the sky outside is dark grey and foreboding, crackling with electric energy. The telltale signs of an incoming storm, almost perfectly mirroring the sky in his dream. His left arm itches at the sight.

All too familiar with this routine, Hanzo's body feels as though it's being guided by an invisible force, and he complies without struggle. There has never been a definite pattern to it, what with weather being as unpredictable as it is, and his own travelling habits. Even so, Hanzo cannot recall a time when he did not anticipate a storm. His dragons were always looking forward to them.

Without even stopping to change from his nightwear, Hanzo slides open the door to his room and pads down the hallway, unseen and unheard. Everyone else is surely asleep - the hour is early, and it's barely light outside. He reassures himself that he needn't worry, only focus on getting this over and done with so that he can return to bed.

Hanzo makes his way through the base and to the rear exit, the layout familiar to him now after months of being a part of the team. Scratches and scuff marks on the door handle and around the outer wall indicate years of use, and he reminds himself again that _nobody else is awake, nobody saw him, he isn't being followed._ As far as he remembers, some of the other agents are currently away on missions, Genji included. So, that's less potential witnesses to worry about. He nods, convinced, and continues down the worn path toward the nearby field.

It's not nearly as never-ending as the field in his dream, and the grass definitely isn't as overgrown - it doesn't reach his fingers, only crunches under his bare feet. However, just the act of standing here, out in the open with a storm drifting above, makes his nerves thrum under his skin. Or, perhaps that's the restless energy of the spirits, eager to finally be experiencing a true thunder storm again after so many years of drought.

Following the same pattern as his dream, Hanzo allows his eyes to look up toward the sky. He watches the clouds move in; they seem so sluggish, so aloof, and yet somehow so motivated to reach him. If he weren't already accustomed to this, the idea of a storm chasing him down would most likely cause him some concern.

Hanzo clenches his hands, letting out a deep sigh. The rain is starting now, a precursor to the real event. It falls upon him, and this time, he definitely feels the chill of the water soaking through his clothes, much to his chagrin. If only the dragons could make him waterproof in the waking world too. At least he knows the lightning cannot harm him.

The wind picks up suddenly, taking Hanzo's untied hair with it, twisting and turning the locks like a fascinated child. He feels more awake now than ever, and his teeth chatter as he waits. The storm is almost here, his left arm is burning with the pure energy of it, and he's sure he can hear the spirits singing in delight.

"Hanzo?" a new voice startles him from his concentration, and he whips around, eyes wide, to see McCree standing some feet away from him. The exit door behind them is ajar. _He didn't hear it open._ He didn't hear McCree follow him here. He was much quieter without his spurs.

McCree regards Hanzo with a look of concern, clear even through the rain and the shadowy brim of his cowboy hat, which he's currently clamping down with one hand to keep it from blowing away. Hanzo's jaw clenches; this could be bad.

"I, uh, I saw you heading out, and I got worried," McCree had to shout to be heard through the rise of the howling gale. "You're not thinking of running or anything, are you? Are you gonna come back inside?"

McCree moves as if to approach him, and Hanzo flings his left arm out sharply.

"Stop! Keep your distance!" he demands, and they both watch his tattoo crackle and glow, violent blue electricity blooming over his skin.

"Hanzo, what's going on? Are you in danger?" McCree shouts back, but obeys the command and does not come closer. He seems unsure, witnessing the way Hanzo is practically alight under the eye of the storm.

 _Hanzo **is**  the eye of the storm,_ his mind says.

"I am fine! Give me a moment." Hanzo replies quickly, and it's all he has time to say before the first bolt of lighting strikes him.

He shouts in surprise, engulfed in the electricity, and his ears ring with the impact. Finally, the dragons squirm to burst forth from his arm, and Hanzo has to angle it up toward the sky to provide a clear route to follow. They coil and dance around the clouds, whistling with the rampaging wind. Through the downpour, their scales seem to absorb the storm, setting them alight with a mesmerising blue energy that mirrors the aura emitting from Hanzo.

The ringing in Hanzo’s ears quietens, followed only by the murmurous grumbling of thunder, and he takes a few shaky breaths. It's been a long time since he was last caught in a storm, and he'd forgotten how disorienting it was.

 _"Holy hell."_ McCree breathes, starstruck. "What a sight."

"The dragons, they- they enjoy thunderstorms." A flimsy explanation, but it's all his exhausted mind can conjure up right now. He rubs at his face to regain his composure, and sparks bloom behind his eyelids. He hopes it will suffice, for now.

To his surprise, McCree does not move for the entirety of the storm, despite the heavy rainfall and strong gusts of wind whipping their hair and clothes around. He only watches Hanzo with an almost unreadable expression.

After what feels like hours, but may only have been minutes, the storm slowly dissipates and the dragons begin to calm, returning to their vessel. The shift in pressure is sudden, and Hanzo collapses to his knees, worn out, as the rain lets up. He still feels the tingling under his skin, but he assures himself it will pass with time. It always does.

Hanzo decides to look at McCree again. The gunslinger's eyebrows are raised, hat tilted up to regard the soft light of the clearing dawn.

"They like storms. I see." he concludes after a moment of quiet, his voice softer now that the weather has settled down. "Are you hurt?"

Despite the ache, Hanzo shakes his head. "No, this is a normal thing for me. I have done this many times before. I'll be fine."

A low whistle. "Well, damn. Doesn't look fun, if I'm honest. But," McCree does approach now, crouching down to eye level, "I guess it does make sense, with your Storm Bow and everything."

"How astute." Hanzo huffs lightly, and McCree smiles in response, rising up and offering a hand out to him. He takes it gratefully.

"To elaborate," he continues as they begin their trek back to the base, "the spirits have an affinity for thunder and electricity. Whenever a storm is on its way, I must seek it out for them. It helps them relieve stress and brings them great joy."

McCree nods, as if he completely understands this bizarre ritual, and shrugs off his serape to drape it over Hanzo's shoulders instead. Rainwater drips from its frayed edges and down his arms, but Hanzo appreciates the sentiment. They're both soaked anyway, pace quickened with the need to dry off and get some rest.

"So, can I ask, does Genji's dragon do the same thing? Because I don't mind keeping an eye out for one of you, but two might be tricky."

Hanzo laughs, even with tiredness seeping through his bones. "If you must know, Genji's dragon prefers gales and tornadoes."

McCree squawks, "Wait, _tornadoes?_ Now that's a lot worse!"


End file.
